


First to the Last

by CalamiTEA



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, OOC for Miraak?, References to Depression, eventually, not a slowburn more like medium heat, playing fast and loose with canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:54:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27713021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalamiTEA/pseuds/CalamiTEA
Summary: Hermaeus Mora was hoping for quite a spectacle when he set the Dragonborns against one another. As chance would have it, Aurora wasn't having any of it....or simply: Miraak gets dragged around like an angry cat in a sack and realizes he sort of likes the sack.I will be adding tags with each chapter posted!
Relationships: Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Miraak
Kudos: 28





	First to the Last

**Author's Note:**

> Is it the innovative, fresh and funky content you deserve in 2020? No. But is it going to be self-indulgent? Hell yeah.  
> Massive thank you to transientfaith (nexus) for their amazing mod that gave me the idea for this fic in general.

„Are you so easily swayed, Sahrothaar?”, Miraak asked, arrogant amusement bleeding through his voice.

The dragon landed, ignoring the taunt. Aurora’s eyes were trained on Miraak with a sense of purpose ingrained on her face. She gracefully swung her legs over the beasts’ neck, landing on Apocrypha’s cryptic ground. The short train of her white robes trailed the floor behind her as she stepped up to him.

“And so the Last Dragonborn meets the First Dragonborn.”, he said, perhaps with a poetic intent. But he wasn’t one easily swayed by cheap sentiment.  
Aurora narrowly avoided a fireball getting flung at high velocity and retaliated with no spell of her own.

 _What’s she playing at?_ , Miraak scoffed.

“You don’t have to do this!”, she pleaded, clutching at the Dawnbreaker hanging by her waist.

The dragon priest just laughed, horrible sound modulated by his mask carrying through Apocrypha. Alduin must have really been a weakling for this sentimental, naïve creature to have defeated him.  
He loosened a spell towards her, the woman steeling herself, ward up to deflect the projectile, and yet still refusing to fight him. Miraak puffed up indignantly. The Last Dragonborn was supposed to be a worthy opponent. He rushed towards her, Whirlwind Sprint carrying him forward to pin her against the wall. Even as he grabbed her by the throat, she didn’t seem to want to hurt him. Aurora gazed at him, as if trying to look past the mask, eyebrows scrunched, eyes full of fear and… concern?

“You’re Dragonborn. Act like it.”, Miraak drawled, inches away from her face.

The Imperial looked at him for a moment longer, colour draining from her face, and he loosened his grip. It felt wrong.

That cost him dearly. Miraak stumbled back, an unknown force crushing the breath from him as if his ribs were collapsing in on themselves. He only caught a glimpse of the regret in her glossy eyes before a sharp pain pierced his stomach.

“No no no-!”, Aurora cried, lunging after him. Before he realised what just happened, Dawnbreaker swooshed through the air, cutting off the tentacle impaling him. Miraak fell down, desperately gasping for air. Before he hit the ground, an arm wound around his waist and held him up. Dropping to his knees, he looked to the side in utter disbelief, his own arm resting on Aurora’s shoulder.

“Fool.”, Hermaeus Mora’s low, growling voice reverberated through the realm. “Is there no end to your defiance?”

Aurora seemed to pay him little mind, rushing to clamp her hand over Miraak’s wound, healing spell already gently chiming.

The Daedric Prince raged, tentacles flailing wildly, eyes glaring.

“Shit.”, Aurora gasped, violently pulling Miraak with her behind a pillar. Dazed, he just tumbled after her.

Several Lurkers appeared from thin air, screeching. A Frost Atronach materialised shortly after, its giant form shielding the Dragonborns. Aurora panted, magicka reserves painfully low, and focused on patching up Miraak in time she bought with the summoned creature.

“Stay with me.”, she whispered, genuine worry glinting in her eyes. _He might be an arrogant ass, but_...

Miraak’s laboured breathing slowed as the wound closed. As if transfixed, he put his hand over hers, looking at her intently.

“Just a moment longer.”, newlyfound determination colouring his voice. He gave up thinking for now. There was no use wondering why the Last Dragonborn would be doing what she’s doing; there was no reasoning with this woman it seemed.

He suddenly leapt from under her and into the fray, sword in one hand, staff in the other. He grinned to himself at the irony of smiting Mora’s minions with his own Daedric artifacts. In wild flurry of tentacles, explosions and violent swipes, he found himself positioned between Aurora and the monsters. It seemed as though she’d done this countless times before; stalking his every move effortlessly, navigating the chaotic battlegrounds. Wherever he moved, she followed. Whenever he failed to block a spell, she did for him. Miraak found himself unwittingly glad to have her there. It was so easy to trust in her ability to protect him, to lean on her. Aurora was eager to defend him. _Why_.

Wave after wave, the monsters would overpower them briefly before her well-placed defensive spells and wards tipped the scales in their favour. Mora’s rumbling threats shook Apocrypha in its core.  
Miraak heard a yelp and his heart caught in his throat. An ice spike hit the woman, lodging itself in her shoulder. She fell to her knees, clutching at the wound. On an instinct, Miraak whisked her away to safety behind a rock, ordering her to stay with a growl. Why did he even care. She could die there and he would have her powerful Dragonborn soul. And yet, he protected her.

“You will not evade me forever.”, Hermaeus Mora snarled uncharacteristically, as the onslaught of his daedric minions thinned out.

Miraak panted, the wound on his stomach torn wide open and bleeding profusely. As the last of the abominations fell to his blade, he rushed to Aurora’s side, now breathing regularly, swirls of healing magic surrounding her. She seemed… worried for him, still.

“Are you alright?”, she asked, voice raspy with effort.

Miraak looked at the swirling mass of tentacles and monstrous eyes.

“Are you quite done?”, he challenged.

Innumerable pupils narrowed at him, clearly fuming.

“Many have thought as you do, Dragonborn.”, _was he addressing him or her?_ , “Beware.”

With this final threat, the Daedric Prince disappeared. Miraak kneeled by Aurora, supporting her around the waist. Unexpectedly, she gave him a faint smile and reached for a black tome strapped to her side.

 _He’s free_.

The ashen skies, the frigid air, the grey sands. It all engulfed him so suddenly. Miraak tumbled to the ground with a soft thud, her form looming over him steadily as she pressed her palms to his stomach in an attempt to heal him. Seizing the opportunity, the dragon priest unsheathed his sword and in a swift motion pointed it to her throat. He was wounded, exhausted and lost for breath. And yet he still had the upper hand. He glared at her from beneath the mask, blade pressed against the soft skin of her neck. Aurora didn’t relent.

The soft hum of Healing Hands, squawking seagulls, crash of waves against the shore. The stale smell of burnt soil, salt water and… lavender?

All these sensations, swallowed by sudden darkness.


End file.
